


A New Moon Rising

by orphan_account



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Empire won, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Torture, Lex Tseebo is not an OC, Mentions of past torture/character death, just so you know, more tags to come with more chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-20
Updated: 2016-02-21
Packaged: 2018-05-22 06:04:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6067918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lex Tseebo had lost everything. His parents, his home, his new friends, his master, the rest of the Jedi. All of it was gone in a blink of an eye. But when he runs into someone from his past, history as he knew it is gone forever. But what does this different sequence of events mean for him? And are these ones the right ones after all or is there a bigger picture that everyone is missing?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Facing the Past

**Author's Note:**

> This is set in an AU where the Empire beat the Rebellion. The events of the original trilogy never happened. The ghost crew failed and paid the price.

A young man, better than this, hides in the sewers of the Outer Rim. A mop of black hair concealed his face from the ever present darkness of the sewers that was his home now. This once legendary figure was no more than yet another nameless mass, forced to cower in the sewers by day and steal by night.

This man, barely older than a boy, is one of the few to remember the days when the Rebellion had a chance against the Empire. Now, he watches the weekly meetings from the corner of the room. Always watching. Always waiting. Always sad.

Because a new Rebel Alliance, no matter how small, meant history would repeat itself. And when history would repeat itself, there would be others like him. And his fate is one he would wish on no one with good intentions, for it killed even the purest of heart. 

These young rebels, so hopeful, never listened to him. They had stopped paying him notice even, besides an occasional remark in his general direction. But it didn’t matter anymore. All that mattered now was stopping them before they fell.

He would let them keep their delusions, but he would not stand for their war. A war that could never be won, only lost. A war where no one won, not even those who came out on top. Because, in the end, there was only death. And nobody wins when it comes to death. He knew that first hand.

He thought of how these rebels dreamed of a world they barely remembered. It was a world he barely remembered just like them. Perhaps he wasn’t as different from them as he had led himself to believe he was. 

But maybe the world they dreamed up wasn’t better. Because he had heard enough about the days of the Republic that he knew that in those final years, the Republic truly was no better than the Empire. At least the Empire is honest about its cruelties. At least it’s not hidden behind the facade of calling itself a “democracy”. 

These rebels, the fresh faces, know nothing of what they’re getting themselves into. They won’t know until it’s too late. They won’t know that sometimes, the best option is to run and never look back. 

And so he took his own misguided advice. For now, Lex Tseebo, a former rebel, was running away from these new rebels. Because, even though they were misguided, they attracted attention. And that was the last thing he needed.

He ran far away from the sewers. He ran far away from secret meetings on Wednesdays and whispered plans. He ran and ran and ran until he ran right into the very thing he had been trying to run away from. His past. 

Lex had nearly right right into a tall tower with a room at the top. This looked abandoned, but as if it had once been inhabited. Curiosity and dread filled him, curiosity winning over. He decided to take the staircase up and see for himself what lay up there after so many years. 

Suddenly, Lex found himself in a round room at the top of a round tower. He was surrounded by collected knick-knacks from the times of the Empire and that of the Republic too. He remembered a young boy with blue and black hair collecting all of these items and bringing them here. 

He saw too many stormtrooper helmets to count lining the walls and shelves. There were the few clone trooper helmets he remembered the blue haired boy collecting, and being so proud of. If only that boy had known then how worthless it all was in the long run.

Glancing around the room, his eyes fell on the weapons collection. It was his true pride and joy, weapons of all shapes and sizes. Some much more practical than others, but all functional. They were blasters, electricity blasters, swords, something resembling nunchucks, and even an old lightsaber. 

This lightsaber was one of a kind. Created from spare parts, it was a dual lightsaber blaster combination. Perfect for a unique fighting style. But it wasn’t needed anymore because all the Jedi were dead. Lightsabers were unnecessary. This one most of all because of the memories it held in that worn down handle. That bright-eyed, hopeful boy. 

He remembered when he was like the people in the sewers and the boy who collected these items. A young, idiotic, idealistic fool. Someone who didn’t know right from wrong and good from bad and who was the cause of so many deaths. 

But that person was dead. That person had died years ago, in an Imperial torture cell. The past was dead. And there was no way to change it, only forget it. 

Lex was shaken from his memories by a glint of bright colors in the corner of the room. Stowed away in a spare box was a helmet that he had thought had died in that Imperial torture chamber too. It was a stormtrooper helmet, painted like a Loth-cat. Where had this come from?

He knew how the helmet had ended up this way, who did it and who wore it, but he didn’t understand how it ended up here, with this junk, of all places. The only other people who knew about it were dead. They had died in an Imperial torture chamber, just like everyone else he cared about. 

After years of suppressing his feelings, he felt that all too familiar feeling of premonition bubble up in his chest. He knew to grab the blaster off the wall, he even knew which blaster would work for his needs. No matter how hard he had tried to stop this, he felt that, with all his discoveries today, maybe the past was finally catching up to him. Now he just has to stay a step ahead.

Cocking the blaster like he did so long ago, he whips around and points it directly at a surprisingly not startled person. The person on the receiving end was wearing slightly faded, decently banged up, spray painted, Mandalorian armor. And there was only one person who would wear armor of such quality. 

A rough, familiar laugh rumbles from within the helmet. “And so the rumors are true. Ezra Bridger lives.”


	2. Reborn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one has some more information on what happened, but not a lot. Trigger warning for mentions of death and torture.

Lex Tseebo stared at the Mandalorian in shock, not believing his eyes. She carefully took off her helmet, revealing a brightly-colored mop of hair mirroring his own. He continued staring at her, mumbling dully, “Who are you?”

 

“Who am I?” she laughed at him scornfully, “It’s really me, Ezra. You can drop the act. If you don’t believe me, reach into the Force and check for yourself.” She gently tossed the helmet to him, while he still pointed the blaster at him. 

 

He grew angry at her words. At the mere mention of Ezra Bridger, he exploded. “Ezra Bridger is dead. My name is Lex Tseebo. I’m not Force sensitive. I’m just trying to stay alive. You are wrong. And you are dead.”

 

A confident grin spread across her face. “So you do admit to knowing me!”

 

“That’s not… ugh.” He finally dropped the blaster, turning away from her in annoyance to put the blaster away. He didn’t hear her move beside him, but when he looked again she was standing next to him.

 

He looked at her truly this time, scrutinizing her as if looking for something special. Something that made her not real. Doing the same thing, she quickly grew impatient. “Ok Lex Tseebo. Tell me, what happened to Ezra Bridger. It’s not even been a year. What the hell happened to you?”

 

Lex, no.  _ Ezra _ , glared at her. “You honestly don’t know? You died. They all died. You have no idea what the Empire put me through. And it’s been years since this happened. The Empire held me for a year alone! I’ve been here for years more! You don’t understand. This isn’t right. None of it. You’re not real! You can’t be real! I don’t believe it!”

 

He had somehow ended up on the ground, curled up in on himself. Memories flashed through his head like a badly edited Holo-vid, making him relive the worst days of his life. They seemed so recent.

 

What if she was right? What if it hadn’t even been a year since all that happened. What if no one had died? What if Ezra Bridger still was alive?

 

But that was impossible. Ezra Bridger had died in an Imperial torture chamber. Right? Right? 

 

She looked at him with pleading eyes, hoping for him to realize she was still there. “I’m sorry. I knew it was a bad idea to look for you, but the rumors… I couldn’t resist it. I knew it was a bad idea but I came anyway. I guess it’s my fault.” 

 

Rumors? There were rumors about him? Was Ezra Bridger really such a well known name that there were rumors about him? How could that be? If there were rumors about him, would that mean the Rebellion never died? He had to know more.

 

Now, it was his turn to plead with her, as she turned to walk away and leave him once more. “Wait, no! I’m the one who’s wrong. I think you might be right. I think I’m wrong. It’s all coming back. But… I felt your death in the Force. How did you survive? I saw them capture you. They showed me a video of your death. Who exactly are you?”

 

“Sabine Wren. Mandalorian. Clan Wren. House Vizsla. Spectre 5 of the Ghost Crew. Rebel. Bounty Hunter.”

 

“It is you!” Ezra stared at her with wide eyes, before pulling her into a much needed hug, “You’re alive! How?”

 

“The Empire focused on you. I managed to slip through the cracks. I contacted Chopper who took me away. I went back to Mandalore. And then I heard the rumors about you. I’ve been looking everywhere for you. I missed you Ezra.”

 

“And the others? Are they alive? Did they escape?”

 

“I know as much as you do about the others. I’m sorry. I was held separately from them. They must not have seen me as much of threat. Except…”

 

“Except what?”

 

“I’m sorry you have to hear it from me.”

 

“Sabine, please. I need to know.”

 

“Zeb is dead. I watched them kill him.”

 

Ezra turned away from her, facing the wall instead. He felt all the emotions rushing through him all over He couldn’t believe it. Zeb was dead. But…? No. He couldn’t let himself think like that. 

 

He tried to remember what Kanan had said about death. Something about them join the Force? Maybe Zeb was still with him. But what if Kanan was wrong? What if…

 

Sabine put a hand on his shoulder, yanking him from his thoughts. He turned around and abruptly pulled her into a hug, shocking them both. “Wishing won’t change anything Ezra. I should know.”

 

Ezra swallowed, barely holding back tears, “Sabine, what happened?”

 

“He put up a fight. They tried to subdue him, but in the end… he was dead.”

 

“And why didn’t the same thing happen to you?”

 

“Because there was something going on in a different part of detention center. I think Kanan or Hera got out.”

 

“But that means... “

 

‘They’re alive.”

 

Ezra broke into a huge smile and hugged her even tighter. He wanted to go and run around and laugh and dance. For the first time since the incident, he felt truly happy. “We have to go find them! If I try, I might be able to search the Force and then we ca...”

 

A loud bang interrupted his sentence, and they both jumped up and grabbed the nearest weapons. Ezra, for the first time in much too long, grabbed his lightsaber in his hand. The familiarity of it brought back both good and bad memories. 

 

Ezra and Sabine stood side by side, aiming at the door. Another crash echoed the first one, this time nearer.

 

“Just like old times,” Sabine remarked. 

 

Ezra shot back, “Well let’s hope this time ends better than old times.”

  
Just as they were beginning to think that it was nothing, the door burst open. In came a lot of stormtroopers. “Drop your weapons and put your hands in the air. Agent Kallus will be happy to see you again.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments/kudos are greatly appreciated.  
> I haven't really planned the whole thing out, so if there's anything you would like to see (or not see), feel free to leave a comment about it!


End file.
